I am not the most graceful of women. In fact, I am quite the clutz. When I was around 16, I had decided to take my mother out for lunch. It was near Mother's Day and I wanted to treat her. We both decided to go for the salad and pasta bar, and I was happy with my pasta and marinara sauce.
That day, I was wearing a silk, white blouse. As I leaned forward to converse with my mom, I had no inkling of what was happening. I leaned back at one point and we both realized that I had covered my blouse with marinara sauce. It is an inside joke that the women in my family cannot eat a meal without wearing part of it.
That was just one of many clutzy mishaps, but I thought I would outgrow the tendency to fall on my face. No such luck. I am the one in this household who breaks the drinking glasses and falls down the stairs along with the many cuts and bruises that go along with that.
Today was just such a day and it's not even noon yet. Now, I can't say that my clutziness is always due to happenstance. It is also due to stupidity in some cases.
I have an old blender. I need this blender in order to puree carrots to feed the baby. My blender is like an old stubborn woman who doesn't want to move. I put the chopped carrots that were already soft and pushed the puree button. The grinding and no pureeing indicated to me that I would probably have to help it along.
I got a plastic spoon and tried to gently push the carrots down to get them moving. With the blender on. Therefore, I ended up with pureed carrots in my eyes, all over my face, and all over the kitchen counter.
Happy had been sitting on a stool watching this whole process and when the carrots started flying, he covered his eyes with his hands. I chalked this up as a good lesson for the boy.
Just a little while later, I konked myself in the face with the phone. As I rub the spot above my eye, I ponder why these things happen to me.
My poor husband has never had this problem. He's never fallen down the stairs or broken a glass. I never see a cut or bruise on the man. The thing is, he's been married to me for 13 years now, and things change.
One day, he discovered toilet paper hanging out of his pants hours later after having visited the bathroom. He had been all over town with TP hanging out. Another day, when we went to a fast-food restaurant with the boys, Doc ended up with ketchup all over his church clothes. This is quite mind-boggling for me. When he looked at me with consternation on his face, I give him a sheepish smile and say, "I guess I'm rubbing off on you, honey."
It's enough to make the man paranoid.
That day, I was wearing a silk, white blouse. As I leaned forward to converse with my mom, I had no inkling of what was happening. I leaned back at one point and we both realized that I had covered my blouse with marinara sauce. It is an inside joke that the women in my family cannot eat a meal without wearing part of it.
That was just one of many clutzy mishaps, but I thought I would outgrow the tendency to fall on my face. No such luck. I am the one in this household who breaks the drinking glasses and falls down the stairs along with the many cuts and bruises that go along with that.
Today was just such a day and it's not even noon yet. Now, I can't say that my clutziness is always due to happenstance. It is also due to stupidity in some cases.
I have an old blender. I need this blender in order to puree carrots to feed the baby. My blender is like an old stubborn woman who doesn't want to move. I put the chopped carrots that were already soft and pushed the puree button. The grinding and no pureeing indicated to me that I would probably have to help it along.
I got a plastic spoon and tried to gently push the carrots down to get them moving. With the blender on. Therefore, I ended up with pureed carrots in my eyes, all over my face, and all over the kitchen counter.
Happy had been sitting on a stool watching this whole process and when the carrots started flying, he covered his eyes with his hands. I chalked this up as a good lesson for the boy.
Just a little while later, I konked myself in the face with the phone. As I rub the spot above my eye, I ponder why these things happen to me.
My poor husband has never had this problem. He's never fallen down the stairs or broken a glass. I never see a cut or bruise on the man. The thing is, he's been married to me for 13 years now, and things change.
One day, he discovered toilet paper hanging out of his pants hours later after having visited the bathroom. He had been all over town with TP hanging out. Another day, when we went to a fast-food restaurant with the boys, Doc ended up with ketchup all over his church clothes. This is quite mind-boggling for me. When he looked at me with consternation on his face, I give him a sheepish smile and say, "I guess I'm rubbing off on you, honey."
It's enough to make the man paranoid.
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